


Stealth in the West

by rosedead



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Crime, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, I don't have much yet, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Male Character, what if a tranny joined the Van Der Linde gang, wrote this for myself tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosedead/pseuds/rosedead
Summary: Connor knew he was different from other men. Didn't seem to matter if no one knew. The Van Der Linde gang don't care what you've got under your clothes, if you're trustworthy and good with a pistol, you've got every box checked. He can't help but worry, though, what they would think if they ever found out.
Relationships: tags pending - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey haha, basically I wanted to see a trans character in Red Dead. This is completely self-indulgent, but I hope others will enjoy it as well. I don't completely know where I'm going with it, I'm a figure it out as you go type of person, so I'll be updating the tags with chapter uploads as well. There will probably be some romance in the future, we'll find out. Enjoy!

He’s always felt it. His father had chuckled and told him that he was almost as much a man of the house as he was. It made him unreasonably happy, even as he laughed along with the joke. It felt good when he’d stroll into town, mud smeared on his cheek and pants, and the clerk at the goods store said, “morning sir, what can I get you?”. It was an odd feeling, nonetheless. Something unheard of, something nonexistent. But it didn’t seem to bother his father, he had no objections when his daughter cut her hair as short as his own. They didn’t live in Saint Denis, where women could pamper themselves to the fullest. It seemed practical for her to prefer pants, she couldn’t be out hunting in a dress, could she?

The door swung open to reveal a grinning young person. “You won’t believe what happened, daddy.” His father turned from the stove where he was cleaning vegetables. “There was two rabbits in the trap down by the boulder. They was squashed in there, I don’t know how it didn’t snap.” He set the two rabbit carcasses gingerly on the counter.

“They must’ve been hungry, hm?” He smiled at the enthusiastic youngster. “Hang ‘em up in the shed ‘n bring the meat back in for me.” He got a nod in response, returning his attention to the potatoes and carrots in the sink as the door closed again.

Connor was feeling a bursting pride in his chest. He’d only gone out to collect from the traps a couple times, and his bounty was twice as large this time. Hunting was his favorite thing to do. It was calm and quiet up to the echoing shot of a rifle and the thump of a creature falling to the ground.

The sound of tearing skin from flesh ripped through the air, and the soft rabbit pelts were set in a pile of curing skins. Connor let his knife find its way between bones and wrapped what was edible in a cloth, rinsing his hands at the water spigot behind the shed.

“Here, you cook the rest for me. I’m having myself a nap.” His father said, stretching his arms up with a yawn and took his cane from where it rested against the counter. Connor made an affirmative sound, taking his father’s place at the stove. He heaved a sigh when the bedroom door shut. Tonight, during dinner, he’ll do it. After years of questioning and confusion, he finally knew what he wanted. He has no clue what to expect, he’s never told anyone. He hoped his father would take it well. He jumped as the meat in the pan spit, refocusing his attention on the food.

~

Connor brought the big spoon to his father’s bowl, smiling when he complimented the dish. His fingers tapped nervously on the table for about a minute until he couldn’t take any more of his father’s questioning stare.

“Daddy I have to tell you somethin’. Important. And serious.” He said, his gaze shooting everywhere but his father’s face. He set his spoon down, bringing his full attention to his child with a “mhm?”.

Connor took a deep breath and started nervously, “I thought about this a long time, a real real long time. And I don’t completely understand it, ‘n I don’t think you will neither.” He paused to twiddle his thumbs together before looking back up. “But that don’t matter, I don’t need to understand it to know what I want.” His face was determined and his voice was firm now, he couldn’t go back on this conversation even if he wanted to. “I feel like a boy. More than I ever felt like a girl, or a woman.”

His father’s eyes widened. He didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this. “You- what?” His voice held no anger or resentment, simply confusion.

Connor let out a breath, it wasn’t a bad reaction, at least. “I feel like a boy.” He restated. “I like it when the folks in town call me ‘sir’ ‘n I like doin’ all the manly stuff like huntin’ and fishin’.”

His father looked conflicted. “But you’re a woman, you may not like the stuff other girls like but you’ve always been a woman.” He huffed. “It’s how you were born, you can’t change that.”

“I know I can’t change my body, daddy, but it don’t matter what’s under my clothes, nobody knows.” He pleaded with his father. “All I know is I don’t like bein’ called a lady. I told all the folks in town that my name’s Connor.” He held firm eye contact with his father, unwavering now in his confidence.

His father was silent, looking back into his child’s eyes that held the same sure fire he’s always seen, reminding him of himself. “I-” he started, never one to speak much. It was difficult for him to find something, anything to say. Connor had started to slump in his chair, losing confidence as the silence stretched on. He took a deep breath, “You’re right, I don’t… understand it.” Connor perked up. “But… who am I to tell you how ya feel? You’ve always been a good kid, ya blended right in with the lil boys.” He picked his spoon back up, the steam from the stew had dissipated. “I ain’t see no harm in it, sounds like ya been doin’ this for a while. What with the townsfolk callin’ ya... Connor.”  
“Nobody knows, they all think I’m a proper man.” He can’t hold back a huge grin or the sting in his eye.

His father swallows around a bottle. “You seem plenty like a proper man t’ me, alright.” Connor jumps up and hugs him tight, his tears wetting the shoulder of his father’s sleeve. He gives him a soft pat on the back. “Alright, alright, now eat the stew fore it gets cold, I’m not puttin’ more logs in the stove t’night.”


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm publishing this immediately, I don't have a schedule or anything. I'll probably publish chapters as I finish them.

Connor wiped the sweat off his brow, smearing dirt on his forehead. The sun was low in the darkening sky but still blazed with the summer heat. His father sat in his rocking chair playing a harmonica. He sang along with the tune as he walked up the porch with a basket of berries in each hand, continuing in a hum after the door swung shut.

A couple of months had passed since the tense conversation at the dinner table. It was difficult, but his father tried to be as caring and understanding as he could. He was getting comfortable with his new name, and life went on how it was before. Connor thought himself extremely lucky, his father was a gentle man, intelligent, and kind.

He’d known of men who dress up in women’s attire, they were usually entertainers or prostitutes. But actually thinking yourself to be the opposite gender? Perhaps it has happened, he just had never seen it. The townsfolk seem unaware of Connor’s status. He looked a lot like his father, and was very strong due to their lifestyle, living with nature. All this contemplating made him recall a fellow he served with in the civil war who he believed to be just exceptionally short.

Connor hadn’t noticed that the sound of the harmonica had stopped until he heard a shout and a gunshot from outside. His father burst through the door, pushing the lock in place with shaking hands. “Connor, grab my rifle.” He breathed roughly, leaning against the door and Connor stumbled to grab the gun from the mantle.

“What happened?” He asked in a panic.

“A gang of people rode up, demanding I give up all we have.” He beckoned with his left hand, his right arm still and leaking at his side. “Give me the gun.”

He shifted uncomfortably, hearing multiple voices outside threatening and laughing. “You’re hurt, you can’t shoot like that.” He pushed his father aside to see out the window. “Go stop the bleedin’.” He started to protest, but another gunshot from outside interrupted him. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” He shouted to the people outside on horseback.

“We want everythin’ you got!” one of them yelled back then burst out laughing with his buddies.

Another one with a gruff voice said, “better make it quick, I got a torch here ‘n I’m a bit clumsy.” with more hearty whoops and laughs.

Connor cursed under his breath, glancing at his father who now held a darkening cloth to his arm and another to his side. He ducked under the window to open a cabinet, grabbing the lockbox inside. A bullet broke through the window he just left, jumping when he saw it bury itself in the floor. “Connor?” He stuffed the sparse contents of the lockbox, a ring, a watch, and a few dollars, into his pocket.

“We’re not lettin’ them take anything of ours, dad.” He hissed, poking the nose of the rifle through the cracked window, shooting at the first person he saw. It landed in his shin causing him to yell, losing balance and falling off his bucking horse. The other four horses stomped and brayed.

“Wrong decision, bastard!” one of them growled, loosing at least five bullets from his revolver at the window. Connor had moved already, eyeing down the sight of the rifle from a different window. He fired two shots at the man behind the one who’d been shooting, hitting him once in the chest, the second shot missing as he slumped over. He heard the horses thrash wildly again as he pulled his father by his good arm towards the back door.

There was a guard at this door as well, though, leaving Connor to begin panicking. “Hey, hey! Hey,” His father gripped his shoulder to ground him. “Let me distract them, I’ll run out this door, and you get out the front.” He rubbed his arm slightly to calm him.

“No, I- I’m not leavin’ you to them!” He shout-whispered, tears filling his eyes. “Dad they’ll kill you.” They flinched when they heard the screech of their chickens. They didn’t want to know what happened.

“I’ll run straight into the woods, it’s dark, they won’t get far on their horses through there.” He stumbled into his room to take his pistol from the bedside table.

Connor flipped the dinner table to hide behind it, pulling his father down beside him. “You can barely walk, even with your cane.” They both ducked from more multiple bullets.

“It don’t matter. There’s nothin’ I won’t do, as long as you get out safe,” He held a shaking Connor close to him like it was the last time he’d get to. “You’re strong. Stronger than I ever was. You will survive.” He said firmly, biting through a sob.

“Colm sends his regards.” There was a crash at the front door and it quickly erupted in flames. Connor screamed, his father rushed to the back door. “Goodbye, son,” he said after a look out the back door, slipping out while the guard had his back turned.

The fire was growing hotter, and more gunshots rang out at the back of the house. “Come ‘n get what you deserve, bastards!” His father’s raspy voice sounded before another shot, a shout, and a thud. The men and their horses screeched, hooves pounding the grass to give chase to the man fleeing the house.

Connor gripped the rifle, breaking a front window with the butt. He climbed out quickly, stumbling, causing shards of glass to lodge into his hands and stomach. “Shit.” He breathed when his feet hit the ground, looking left and right before breaking into a sprint towards the trees. His vision blurred with tears, branches slapped his skin viciously, but he didn’t stop until the sound of crackling fire faded.

He panted, falling against a tree, sliding to the floor with a broken sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that action scene was good, I'm not used to writing in that fashion, lol. Hope you're having a great day/night!


	3. 3

The match scratched across his boot, lighting up with a bright flash. He held it to the end of his cigarette until it was glowing and he could inhale the bitter smoke. He tipped his hat at a man who passed with a wave. He tossed the man draped over his horse over his shoulder and stepped into the Valentine sheriff’s office. “Got yer Stephen Wilks right here, sheriff.” He mumbled around the cigarette.

The sheriff clapped his hands. “Ah! You work fast, Mr. Mulligan, set ‘im in an empty cell for me, would ya?” Connor nodded, dropping the man in the cell as he was instructed.

“No problem. He didn’t put up much of a fight,” he chuckled as he closed the cell. “Any leads on O’Driscoll?” The sheriff handed him a wad of cash.

He shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Nah. Colm’s always been one slippery sonufa. I wouldn’t get yer hopes up, kid.” He patted him on the shoulder. “I know you’ve been chasin’ this for a long time, maybe it’s time to pursue a new goal. Take care now.” Connor thanked him and left, stuffing the cash in his satchel.

He fished a carrot out of his saddlebag for his horse. “I’m startin’ to lose hope in this, Jewels.” He scratched behind the horse’s ear as she chewed. He sighed heavily. He’d been on the trail of Colm O’Driscoll since the dreadful arson of his home, 12 years ago. When his life and his own father was ripped violently from his arms. He’d only been a late teenager, only beginning to grab hold of life to make it his own. 

Maybe the sheriff was right, maybe it was time to let it go. But he couldn’t, the only thing he’d been able to feel since that night was pure rage and resentment. He’d let his father leave without much of a fight, and left him to the imagination of the animals who’d surrounded them. His grip tightened on the saddle and he tossed the dying cigarette butt into the dirt. “I don’t know, girl, what else do we do?” He whispered. He needed a drink.

~

Connor sighed, tipping his bottle upright to let the last drops slide down his throat. He was spying on the poker game occurring on his left, nodding subtly at the man across the table from the guy who’s cards he could see. He won the pot. Chuckling with satisfaction, he watched a tall, scruffy man walk unceremoniously into the bar. He took his spot with two other men he didn’t recognize flirting with a couple women leaning against the bar. Not too long after he walked up both women scoffed and walked away. He laughed silently, curious how a ruggedly handsome man had disgusted both of them so viscerally.

A fourth, larger man pushed his way through the saloon doors, immediately running into a local, grabbed him by the collar and headbutt him. “Shit,” Connor grinned and shot up immediately, moving to the back of the bar next to the barber to watch the ensuing chaos. The four new men were vicious fighters, he guessed this wasn’t an uncommon event for them.

The guy in the bowler hat was wrestling with one man at the bar, and the fashionable black man was beating two more. The scruffy man, who was seemingly unpopular with women, managed to knock one guy out and huffed before simply picking up his hat. He ran over to his fat friend and dragged two men off of him, about to go in on another guy when a voice boomed from the balcony. It was Tommy, a bull of a man, making his way down the stairs.

This feud was way too entertaining for him not to get in on the action. He definitely decided to side with the strangers, they would overpower him easily. Tommy dodged a punch from the man in the bowler hat and hit him hard in the gut. Connor ran to Tommy, who was dragging the smaller man across the bar to a table, and landed a punch square into his kidney. 

Tommy lost his grip on the man, tossing him into the wall and he curled into himself on the ground. Tommy tried to bring his hammer of an arm down on the top of Connor’s head, but he blocked it, and in a surprising burst of speed Tommy grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him across the table. He prepared for another assault but it didn’t come. Glancing up, the scruffy man had grabbed Tommy. Connor grinned and recovered quickly but didn’t move in time to avoid the scruffy man being used as a projectile and was knocked back through the window, the wind knocking out of him when his back hit the mud and the man landed on top of him.

The man got up quickly, pulling Connor up and to the side while he was failing to pull air into his lungs. He heard jeers from the crowd that gathered around them and the blunt sound of fist on flesh. He felt a hand on his upper back as his breath came back in fuller. “You’ve got this, Morgan!” the voice the hand on his back belonged to shouted.

The two were in the mud, Morgan beating his fist repeatedly into Tommy’s face until someone pulled him up. “Stop! Please, I beg you, stop. Come, sir, you won the fight already,” Morgan looked up at him, panting and slathered in mud. He grumbled, pushing past the line of people. 

He felt a pat on his shoulder and an accented voice, “Hey, thanks for pulling that guy off me. You ok?” Connor nodded, taking the hand offered to pull him up.

“Yer friend there is an entire brick wall.” He gestured in the general direction where two more men were talking to Morgan. The man that helped him up laughed.

“I’ll tell ‘im to lay off the beer, huh?” He chuckled, grabbing Connor’s hand for a shake. “Javier, my brick wall over there is Arthur.” He grinned.

“Connor. I haven’t seen y’all round here before, traveling?” He brushed some of the mud from his clothes. 

“You could say. My family just got here. You live here?” The two others who were with Javier and Arthur walked up, then. 

“Hell of a welcome to Valentine, huh?” Connor chuckled. “I’ve been holed up here for a few months, doing some bounty work ‘n investigatin’ for myself.” He offered his hand to one of Javier’s friends.

“Charles.” He said warmly. Someone shouted his name from another building, and they all turned to see Arthur, covered generously in mud, along with two smartly-dressed men. One waved them over, and Javier gestured for Connor to come along.

The man who’d called for Charles and Javier raised his eyebrow at the sight of a stranger walking up with them but tipped his hat. “You really did make a friend, Arthur?” He chuckled deeply, the gold chain pinned to his vest jingling softly.

Arthur looked up at Connor, still cradling his shoulder, and grumbled. “He pulled that big guy off of Javier, an’ I landed on ‘im after being thrown out the window,” he wiped his right hand on a mostly clean part of his pants to offer it, “sorry ‘bout that, by the way.”

Connor grinned in amusement, accepting the dirty handshake. “He said you should lay off the beer, Arthur.” Javier giggled behind him with both his hands on his shoulders. Connor shrugged him off but laughed along.

“I said no such thing, sir, merely that you are one hefty man. Knocked the wind right out of my own two lungs.” They all joined in the laugh. “Connor Mulligan.” The jewelry-clad man made a dramatic bow in his direction.

“Dutch van der Linde, why I’m glad to hear that someone was willin’ to help out my boys.” His voice came from his belly, thick and bright. He was enthusiastic and loud, and brandished every sentence with a flourishing tone. It was amusing just to watch him speak.

“I figured I’d be safer on their side than on the other.” He suggested, making Dutch bust out a loud HA. 

“Thank you, sir. I hope we see each other again.” Dutch told his other fancy friend to go off with Charles and Javier and told Arthur to get himself cleaned up. He started walking away with a wave, which made the man who started the fight, Bill he discovered, to chase after him in complaint.

Connor offered his hand to pull Arthur up, and he accepted. “Uh, you know a place I can…” he gestures to his clothes, now drying with mud.

He smiles brightly, “‘Course, I’ll show you to the inn.” Arthur nodded thankfully. “Quite a posse you got yourself, Mister Morgan.” He started towards the inn with Arthur close behind.

“Ah they’re alright,” Arthur dismissed, but Connor could see a warm smile and shine in his eye, “but they’re mine.” he sighed, touching his jaw again. They walked into the inn and Connor touched the bell on the counter.

“Hey, Gary. Please set this fine man up with a bath.” The innkeeper almost jumped back when he saw Arthur: tall, wide, and covered in mud and bruises.

“Yes, of course.” He started walking down the hallway before waving his hand for Arthur to follow.

Connor waved as well, “I hope I see you and your friends again, Mister Morgan. Hopefully, a bit less blood and dirt will be involved.” as he backed out of the building.

“Thanks again, ‘n sorry for crushin’ ya.” He turned to follow the innkeeper to the bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally: The Men.


End file.
